


Kill the lights and kiss my eyes

by chezamanda



Category: Night Hunter (2018)
Genre: Cabins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hiding, Kissing, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Stalking, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Post-Movie: Night Hunter (2018), Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Paralysis, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chezamanda/pseuds/chezamanda
Summary: When your life is threatened by an ex-boyfriend, Marshall offers to protect you.
Relationships: Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)/Reader, Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Borrowed the title from Hozier ("To Be Alone)" because I listened to a lot of him while writing this.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bH9mRs3sW7A
> 
> Thanks to Chrissy and Pamela for the encouragement.
> 
> What I based the cabin on: https://www.mtnlaurelchalets.com/gatlinburg-vacation-rentals/sweet-one
> 
> While this is just a fic, if you or someone you know is being stalked, here are a few resources that may help:  
> The National Center for Victims of Crime (US) https://victimsofcrime.org/stalking-resource-center/  
> Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime https://crcvc.ca/  
> Paladin National Stalking Advocacy Service (UK) https://paladinservice.co.uk/

“So how long am I supposed to stay here?” you ask, stepping inside the A-frame cabin. Marshall disarms the beeping security alarm and then flicks on the lights.

“Until it’s safe.”

While you already know this, it still doesn’t sit right with you. Within the last few months, your life had been completely upended when you discovered that your ex-boyfriend - a guy you never expected in a million years to hurt so much as a fly - is a stalker and a murderer. Despite your training as a profiler, you had been completely fooled. That is, until the harassment started after you ended things with him late last year. Unexpected visits at all hours, calls, voicemails, texts, emails, messages across social media (including those of your close friends and family), even complaints to your boss. 

You kept records of everything he did to intimidate you, even photographed the gifts he left at your door or placed on your car when you were running errands. They were innocuous things that wouldn’t get him arrested - typical stalking behavior. You did everything right in reporting him and managed to secure a protective order against him, likely due to your position. Many stalking victims have trouble even getting someone to listen. Then they found the link between a series of women’s deaths across three states. There were even a few potential cases in British Columbia and Alberta. Professionals in their 20s and 30s, you were exactly his type. Just thinking about it makes you sick.

Marshall goes over to the kitchen area and starts unloading the shopping that he’d picked up on the way to the cabin. You glance at the widows, finding a beautiful view of the mountains and nothing but trees as far as you can see. Your ex doesn’t know Marshall, but you know that he has keeping tabs on you even while he’s been hiding out. You check the lock on the door, just in case.

“Need help?”

“I’ve got it,” he says. “There’s a bed up in the loft. I can bring some blankets and things up in a moment.”

You walk to the small, drop-leaf table just to the side of the kitchen and set your things down. The heavy coat you’ve been wearing goes over the back of one of the chairs. “I don’t mind. It’ll make me feel useful for a little while.”

Marshall gives you a sympathetic look and then gestures toward a door next to the bathroom. “They’re in there.”

You pass to collect the bedding and pillows from the linen closet and then take everything upstairs. There isn’t much in the way of decoration, just a plain dresser positioned against the loft railing as well as a nightstand beside the bed. Marshall had explained on the drive up that the cabin belonged to his uncle and was usually rented out in the warmer months. 

You set your bags on the mattress and unpack them, placing the clothing in the dresser drawers. It’s a very ordinary thing to do, like you’re up here on vacation. Not hiding from a serial killer who just so happened to be stalking you. You desperately need some sense of normalcy right now.

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” you call down over the railing.

“I’ll take the couch,” he answers.

There’s no way that couch is comfortable enough for someone as tall as him, but you don’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you finish your task and then make up the bed. Outside, the deep amber sunset filters through the thick trees as it slides towards the horizon. The events of the past few weeks have completely drained your batteries. You curl up onto of the comforter, wrapping your arms around yourself. All you need are a few moments to rest and then maybe a shower and some food. Definitely some food. You’re asleep as soon as you close your eyes.

* * *

The sound of rain against the slanted roof wakes you sometime later. It’s dark outside now, but the lights are on downstairs. You figure Marshall is still awake. Grabbing your phone, you realize that the battery had gone dead sometime during your nap. Fortunately, in your hurry to pack up and leave, you’d remembered to grab the charger. With that squared away, you grab some clean, comfortable clothes and your toiletries bag, and then head down. Marshall is on a call in the kitchen when you pass him, but he holds the phone away to speak to you.

“Everything all right?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, fine. Just going to shower.”

He nods. “Let it run a little while unless you want to freeze.”

“Good to know.”

Walking into the bathroom, you hit the light switch and then shut the door behind you. It’s small, not that you’d expected it to be very spacious given the size of the cabin. You reach into the shower and turn the water on, letting it run while you change out of your clothes. You notice the travel sized toiletries laid out on the edge of the tub. Over on the sink there are also two toothbrushes, some toothpaste, mouthwash, floss, and even a little tub of moisturizer. While you’d been able to grab a few things from your bathroom, there were some essentials that you’d realized you forgot. Their presence brings a smile to your face.

_Thoughtful._

Showering is another dose of that mundanity that you’ve been missing. The hot water melts away the tension in your back and shoulders as you stand beneath it. Since it’s too soon to wash your hair, you skip that step altogether and just get cleaned up. The water doesn’t stay hot for very long and forces you to you step out. Grabbing a towel, you wrap it around your body to protect yourself against the slight chill that cuts through the humidity. 

By the time you’ve finished in the bathroom, you can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. With a loud rumble, your stomach reminds you that you still haven’t eaten anything. You walk out and find Marshall setting the table with a couple of plates and silverware. There’s already a clear pitcher of water and a couple glasses in the middle of the table.

“Smells good,” you comment and nod towards what appears to be lasagna on the stove. “Thanks for the supplies.”

“You’re welcome. I wasn’t sure what kind you used, so I just grabbed what they had in the store.”

You take a seat at the table. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t get too impressed with this. It came from the store.”

“It’s hot, that’s all I care about right now,” you say with a chuckle.

* * *

Glass crashes downstairs, startling you awake. You call out to Marshall, but hear nothing except for a heavy set of footsteps heading up the stairs. It isn't Marshall. It’s **him.** Somehow he had followed you to the cabin and gotten in. You try to get up but your body won’t move. You scream for Marshall, but your cries come out strangely quiet. Your ex is on you in a flash, his weight pinning you to the bed. He places a hand over your mouth as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath. As much as you try to struggle against his grasp, you can’t manage the strength to move even a finger. You know he’s going to make good on his last threat.

You blink and then… nothing.

Heart still pounding, you realize that you still can’t move for a few agonizingly long moments. Fear grips you and you wonder if he could still be there, hiding in the darkness. Had he hurt Marshall? Or worse? You force yourself to reach out for your phone on the nightstand. If your hands would stop shaking, you could manage to unlock it and call for help. Tears prick at your eyes. You gasp when you hear footsteps on the stairs again. 

“What’s wrong?”

It’s Marshall.

You open your mouth to reply, but only a sob manages to escape. Marshall turns on the small lamp beside your bed and then kneels in front of you. One large hand cups your cheek. “Look at me,” he instructs. “Take a deep breath with me, okay? Deep breath in.”

You inhale as he does, and then hold it for a moment. When he exhales slowly, you do the same. He repeats this a few more times. A slow breath in, hold it, and then a slow breath out. You focus on this, the low, calming sound of his voice telling you what to do, the feeling of his warm palm against your face. The rapid beat of your heart eventually begins to slow back to normal.

“Better?”

“Yeah…thanks.”

“Can I get you anything?”

You shake your head. Marshall sits beside you on the bed, close enough for his knee to brush yours. The panic has subsided, but you’re still raw around the edges. It was just too real. Your hands continue to tremble, so you fold them tightly in your lap. You explain what happened in the dream and how you’d felt trapped and unable to breathe.

“Sounds like sleep paralysis,” he says. “Your eyes open during a dream, so it’s kind of projected onto the room you’re in.”

You blink. “I’ve never had that happen before.”

“Some people experience it during times of stress,” he explains. “Think you’ll be okay to get back to sleep?”

“Yeah… Could you stay for a little while longer?”

You feel silly for asking. You’re a grown woman, but now you just need the comfort of another person. The dream had shaken you too badly. Maybe Marshall’s presence at your side could keep the nightmares away. While you don’t dare say this aloud, he seems to catch on. The concern in his face softens.

“Of course.”

Marshall stands allowing you to curl back up beneath the comforter before he switches the light off. Instead of getting under the covers with you, he opts to lay on top of them on the other side of the bed. With so little space between you, you became keenly aware of just how _warm_ he is. You keep your eyes fixed on the ceiling and try to ignore it.

“I sure know how to pick ‘em,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. A tried and true defense mechanism.

He turns onto his side. With the moon being nearly full outside, you can just make out his face in the silvery grey light. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“Pretty hard not to. I was with the guy for two years. I _slept_ with him.”

Your voice trembles, forcing you to bite down on your bottom lip. You didn’t want to get upset again, but the embarrassment of being so blind for all that time reopens the wound. A shaky inhale betrays you and then you feel Marshall wrap you in his arms just as the tears begin to fall again. Everything just pours out of you, all of the hurt and anger and fear, but he holds onto you, stroking your hair and whispering words of reassurance. 

“It’s alright,” he tells you, his voice hushed. “You can’t blame yourself for any of this. We’re going to catch him and make sure it never happens again.”

You want to believe him, you really do. Right now, it feels as though there’s no end in sight. Teetering on the verge of another panic attack, you focus on the heat of Marshall’s body and how nice it feels to be held. While you’d known each other for a few years, this is the first time that he’s hugged you. Your relationship has been strictly professional until this point, despite the attraction you’ve secretly harbored. You are colleagues and that’s all. Beneath the soft material of his sweater is solid muscle and the combination of those two things certainly takes your mind off of the swirl of painful memories and nightmares. 

Lifting your head, you meet his eyes in the near-darkness. Just like that, something inside of you snaps, and then your mouth is on his. Both of you suck in a sharp breath at the contact. It’s good. It’s really good. You throw yourself fully into the kiss, pressing up against him and wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders. He groans against your lips. A little shiver runs up your spine at the sound. His hands tighten on you ever so slightly, and then…

Marshall pushes you away gently. 

“Darling, we can’t,” he says with a sigh as he lays back against the pillow.

Icy cold embarrassment of the rejection pools in the pit of your stomach. You briefly consider running straight out into the cold night and never returning, stalker be damned. How could you have done something this rash? Even if you know you’re upset and desperate for comfort, this just isn’t like you. You turn away from Marshall and close your eyes tightly in an attempt to shut out everything you’re feeling. The mattress shifts, but you don’t hear the sound of his feet hitting the creaky floorboards below. 

“G’night,” he says.

You can only hum in response, unable to say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the reason this fic is Explicit ;)

Two days drag out after the incident. That’s what you’re choosing to call it in your head - the incident. It’s more concise than “that time you came onto your colleague who was just doing his job.” You spend most of your time in bed either napping in short spurts or trying to ignore your messy feelings by playing a game on your phone. From what you can gather, Marshall doesn’t appear to be fazed. The brief moments you do share, he says very little to you. Not cold, just aggravatingly professional. You figure once this is all over, you’ll leave the department. Hell, the idea of moving clear across the country sounds nicer and nicer by the second. Some place where all of your bad memories and mistakes can’t find you.

That night you hand wash the dinner dishes while Marshall works on his laptop over in the living room. You wonder how long the pair of you will go without talking about what happened, if at all. _Darling._ The word has been on a constant repeat in your mind since then despite your best efforts to ignore it. The only thing he’s ever called you is your first name or by your title when introducing you to others. 

Not “Darling.”

Never “Darling.”

The trill of his phone interrupts your thoughts. You finish the last plate and set it in the drying rack beside the sink while he talks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him stand and then walk over to you. You dry your hands and replace the towel before you turn to face him. There’s a serious look on his face and your stomach knots up, preparing for bad news. He pockets the phone.

“They picked him up tonight.” 

Relief nearly drops you to your knees, but he catches you and pulls you in a fierce hug. You cry into the soft material of his sweater. How strange it feels not to be crying because you’re terrified of what’s going to happen to you. Stroking your hair, he tells you over and over that you’re okay. You’re safe. 

“They’re sure it’s him?” you ask, looking up at him.

He gives a slight nod. “It’s him.”

“Where did they find him?”

“Out on Highway 16. A gas station attendant recognized him and called it in.”

You give a quiet “oh” in response because you don’t know how else to respond. He brushes the tears away from your face and then presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. Intrusive memories of the incident cause your face to go hot. He’d kissed you back that night, you haven’t forgotten that detail. 

You clear your throat before speaking, “I guess we should pack up and head back tonight.”

“I said we’d be back in the morning. He’s not going anywhere.”

With that weight lifted, another still remains and you need to get it off your chest before you return to the real world. Reluctantly, you move out of his embrace. He watches your face closely as you consider your next words. “About the other night… I’m sorry. You were just consoling me and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

The soft sound of your name on his lips makes your breath catch in your throat. He shakes his head again, smiling fondly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have.”

“You didn’t,” he says. “As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t-”

Another call interrupts him, but it gives you an excuse to step away and collect yourself. So it the attraction isn’t as one sided as you’d assumed. A surprised laugh bubbles up in your chest, but you conceal it as best you can as you head up to the loft. With your ex in custody and that revelation, your emotions are all over the place. You busy yourself with packing up your things, though you wonder what he was going to tell you before he got that call.

Marshall heads up the stairs a couple minutes later. You zip up your duffel bag and set it back on the floor beside the dresser. “Everything okay?” you ask in an attempt to appear casual.

“Yeah… need a hand?”

You glance at the packed bag and then back at him. He fidgets slightly with his hands as though he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. The Marshall you know is confident and, at times, intimidating (but never towards you). You’ve never seen him unsure of himself before and it’s oddly… cute. “You didn’t finish what you were saying downstairs,” you say.

His eyebrows jump towards his hairline. “No, no I didn’t,” he starts. “I didn’t want to take advantage of your emotional state.”

That explains the shift back into his more professional demeanor. You chew on the side of your mouth as you consider this. “We should have talked the next morning. I felt like you were trying to shut me out.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and steps over to you. His hands close around yours. “I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about it. That was my mistake.”

“Mm… it’s probably still a bad idea anyway, isn’t it?” you ask, only half jokingly as you look down at your joined hands.

He reaches up with one hand and curls one finger beneath your chin, gently urging you to meet his eyes. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

In that moment when you can see why he puts up all of those walls around him. It isn’t just out of professionalism, which you do yourself in this line of work, but because of his own vulnerability. He’s just as scared as you are. His divorce is common knowledge around the department, although you had never asked any personal details (not that he would have answered them, you figure). There has been speculation about his love life that you decidedly ignored out of respect for his privacy, as you did with your other colleagues. 

“But I want to.”

Something shifts in his worried gaze, something hopeful. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m very sure.”

And that’s all it takes before his mouth is on yours. There’s nothing chaste or unsure about this kiss. His hand cups your face, holding you as he brushes his tongue against your lips. Your mouth drops open on a sigh and allows him entrance. Meanwhile, his other hand moves around to the small of your back, pulling you up close. Years of stifled desire break loose between the two of you. You don’t know when or if you’ll get this chance again, and you don’t intend to squander it. Curling your fingers into his sweater, you practically hold on for dear life as he kisses you. 

A few steps backward and you feel the mattress pressed against your legs. Marshall follows you down onto it, his much larger frame covering your own. You take a moment to study his face and bring one hand up to touch his cheek. Normally, you prefer the lights to be off in situations like this, but you need to commit every second of this to memory. Just in case. His beard is rough against your palm as he leans into your touch. How long has it been since he had allowed anyone this close, you wonder. He doesn’t give you much time to think, capturing your mouth again. Oh, he’s way too good at this.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers as he trails kisses along your jawline.

You laugh breathlessly. “Not a chance.”

He finds that little spot below your ear that drives you wild, making you squirm beneath him. You can feel the wolfish grin against your neck as he exploits this new discovery. His hands slide up beneath your shirt and massage your breasts. The only reason he stops is to help you get the top off and then he continues as before. You arch into his touch, moaning loudly as his mouth joins in on the attention. Kisses turn to licks and sucks as he takes one nipple between his lips and then the other. Every nerve ending feels overloaded, your brain unable to handle what’s happening to you. 

Marshall lifts his head so that he can kiss you, long and deep. While you’d imagined what it would be like - usually in some very unprofessional moments at work or when you were alone in bed - it’s nothing like the real thing. Even that first kiss pales in comparison to the way he takes your mouth now. He _wants_ you and that fact alone leaves you aching and ready for him. When his hand slips down beneath the waistband of your leggings, he groans at the slick evidence of your arousal. He runs one finger through your folds, teasing you. His touch quickly has you shivering beneath him. 

Moving down, Marshall strips off the rest of your clothing before nudging your thighs apart with his broad shoulders. You shiver when his breath ghosts over your wetness. Eyes fixed on you, his fingers spreads you open for him, and then dives right in.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” you gasp.

Ever since he grew out his hair, you’ve been desperate to bury your hands in it. You grab a handful of dark curls as he works you with his lips and tongue. A low, rumbling moan tells you that he’s enjoying this almost as much as you are. He devours your pussy, licking up the length of it in long, sensual strokes before delving inside as far as he can go. He sucks hard on your already overly sensitive clit and you yelp with delight. The delicious rasp of his beard against your delicate flesh only heightens the pleasure. As much as you want to watch everything that he’s doing to you, you drop your head back against the pillow as you let it all wash over you.

Two fingers slip into your cunt, working in tandem with his unrelenting mouth. Somehow he knows exactly where you need to be touched. All you can do is whimper and buck against him as you edge closer to your climax. He rubs firmly against your g-spot as he draws down on your clit and then it’s all over for you. You cry out as the orgasm rips through you, back arching up off the bed.

You’re left trembling and gasping for breath in its wake. Marshall gives your inner thigh a little kiss before resting his head on your belly. You loosen your death grip on his hair and massage his scalp as you murmur a soft apology. He chuckles before he makes his way back up your body with more chaste pecks along the way. You can taste yourself on his tongue when it sweeps past your lips. This is how you stay for the next few moments, lazily exploring each other’s mouths. 

You could spend all night like this, however your body has other plans. From the press of his cock beneath his jeans, you can tell his does as well. Teasingly, you slide your hand over his erection and he growls into the kiss. He ruts against your palm, clearly eager to find his own release.

“You better stop that,” he warns and nips at your bottom lip.

You grin coyly. “Why?”

“Because I want to be buried inside you when I come.”

Heat flashes through you again at his words, low and dark and oh-so-promising. You go to help him out of his pants, but he’s already taking care of it. Every inch of his strong body is on display for you. You’re sure you could spend hours just staring at him. His dick stands out proudly, making your mouth water. You consider going down on him, but there’s something about how thickly built he is and all of that dark hair that trips something primal in your brain. You need him to take you. _Now_.

Instead of climbing back on top of you, he sits back against the headboard and gathers you into his lap. You ease down onto his wonderfully fat cock until you’re fully seated. Both of you groan at how fucking perfect it feels to be joined like this. He brings you back to his mouth for another searing kiss. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you begin to rock your hips as you hold onto his shoulders with both arms. The way he stretches you makes you shudder and reminds you that it’s been too damn long.

His voice is rough and low in your ear. “That’s it, darling, ride my cock.”

If there’s a resonant frequency to your vagina, you’re certain that he’s found it and matched it. The thought nearly makes you laugh, but then he’s kissing you again. He still tastes faintly of your arousal, and possessiveness curls wickedly in your mind. Sweat beading at your hairline, you work yourself on him. His hands are all over you, smoothing over your skin before returning to your breasts. This time his mouth takes over for his fingers and he lowers his head to scatter kisses over your tits. You lean back to give him better access, moaning softly as he sucks one nipple into his mouth. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you grind out.

Your second orgasm is just out of reach, and you so badly want to come on his dick. Reaching down between your bodies, you begin to rub at your clit to get yourself closer to completion. Tension coils tighter and tighter at the base of you. So, so close. He moves on to your other breast, giving it the same attention and you whimper in response. His mouth returns to yours, one hand cradling the back of your neck.

“Let me,” he whispers between kisses. “Want to feel you come again.”

With that, his hand replaces yours, tracing teasing little circles around the sensitive bud. His touch alone nearly sends you over the edge. God, what is he doing to you? You’d had great sex in the past, sure, but not like this. This is straight out of those fantasies that you’d forced to the back of your mind, except so much better because it’s real. Your orgasm finally reaches its breaking point at the sound of your name on his lips. You tighten your hold on his shoulders as your body shudders in the onslaught. 

Barely giving you a moment to recover, Marshall holds you close to him and rolls over so that you’re beneath him again. You make a weak sound of disappointment when he pulls away and slips out of you. Already your body misses and aches for the feeling of his cock inside of it. He repositions both of you so that he’s between your thighs. You’re still panting as you meet his heated gaze. With a little grin, you reach up to pull him back to you.

He chuckles quietly and then nuzzles at your ear. “If it’s too much, let me know.”

Something twists in your chest at how gently he handles you. One hand presses yours up above your head, your fingers entwined with his. He kisses you as the other slides up beneath your knee, holding you open for him. When he slips easily back inside of your pussy, he _growls_ as though he’s never felt anything as good as you. Every inch of you shivers at the sound. He sets a rough pace, no doubt seeking his own orgasm after bringing you off twice. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breath labored as he fucks you.

It’s a good thing no one else is around to hear the racket you’re making. You can’t help it. Already, you feel the stirrings of another climax inside of you. “That’s it,” you urge him. “Come inside me. _Please_.”

Marshall groans loudly in response and his hips snap against yours, hard enough that you know you’ll feel it for days. You never want him to stop fucking you. Seeing him so wild makes you lose yourself again, a gush of something warm and wet follows. You keep begging him, practically chanting his name until he finally reaches his breaking point. Heat fills you with every throb of his cock. 

You wrap your arms and legs around him, holding him against you as you both lay there trembling. Turning your head, you seek out his mouth once more. Breathless and spent, the two of you trade soft kisses and whisper as your bodies recover from the aftermath. He shifts his weight so that he isn’t fully on top of you, not that you minded before. His head rests beside yours on the pillow and he closes his eyes, sighing contentedly.

“Going to fall asleep on me now?”

Eyes still shut, he smirks. “Just resting before the next round, darling.”

An excited shiver runs through you at his husky reply.

* * *

“So you and Rachel? Got a thing for profilers or was this purely coincidence?” you tease, lazily stroking your fingers across his chest.

As promised, there had been a couple more tumbles before you both found yourselves too tired to move. Marshall is now laying on his back with you curled around him, comforter pulled up over you just enough to keep the chill away. You figure it must be well past midnight now. The full moon shines in through the window, illuminating the room in the darkness. Marshall is relaxed and smiling, a rare sight that you’ve managed to catch a few times tonight.

He chuckles. “Coincidence.”

“What happened?” you ask, but he’s quiet as he looks up at the ceiling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, it’s all right,” he explains, and then takes a moment before he continues. “It was poorly timed. She was in the middle of a divorce and we’d both nearly died. We decided it wasn’t a good idea, in the end. Eventually, she took a job offer in another city and we really haven’t spoken since.”

You glance up at him. “These aren’t very different circumstances. It could go the same route, especially in our line of work.”

“That’s true.” He looks down at you and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’d like to think it won’t, though. When you’re ready, I’d like to give it a go.”

Smiling, you nod in response. “I’d like that too. When I’m ready.”

Marshall draws you in for a sweet, lingering kiss that leaves your heart fluttering. You’re going to need the space and time to heal after everything that’s happened. Throwing yourself into a relationship after one ended very badly makes for a shaky start to the next. With your ex in custody, you’ll be able to start putting your life back together. Knowing that Marshall will be there waiting only made you feel all the more hopeful for what was to come.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later...

“Thanks again for making dinner,” you say, resting your head on Marshall’s shoulder.

You’ve called him by his last name so long it’s hard to think of him as “Walter.” Marshall suits him better, in your opinion. He wraps an arm around you, his hand settling on the swell of your hip. It’s been a long day of waiting to hear back from the jury, but in the end you were able to watch your ex be handed a life sentence without parole. Marshall has been at your side all day, holding your hand as you’d tried to fight off your anxiety about the verdict. Things have improved in a lot of ways thanks to regular visits to a therapist and you moving to a new place, but you still deal with the aftereffects on a regular basis. He had seen you through a lot of bad times over the past year. 

“I figured you could do with something that wasn’t take away.”

You smile. “Do you mind staying tonight?”

“Of course not,” he says and kisses your forehead.

You’d only just started seeing each other officially a few months back. Before that, Marshall kept a comfortable distance so you could heal. You like having him around, even if he can be moody and in his head a little too much at times. There’s a soft side you’ve been fortunate enough to see that makes it worthwhile. He’s considerate and he makes you smile. There isn’t a moment where you don’t feel safe with him.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asks, his thumb stroking over that little bit of exposed skin above your shorts.

“Probably running errands. Why?”

He draws you into his lap with a grin. “I was hoping you’d want to spend it in bed with me, but if you really need to do your shopping…”

You laugh and give him a little swat on the arm before slipping away from him to head out of the room. “Just for that I’m showering without you tonight.”

“Oh no you fucking aren’t,” he threatens playfully as he follows after you.

You expect you won’t be getting much sleep that night.


End file.
